


Emerald Eyes

by FoxofSpades



Series: Fire Spirit 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Wee!chesters, fire spirits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 04:43:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxofSpades/pseuds/FoxofSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is ten the first time he sees the flame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emerald Eyes

Sam is ten the first time he sees the flame. He and Dean had been dumped at a motel while dad went on a hung. (Shouldn’t take long, be back by midnight.) It’s three a.m. and Sam hasn’t slept. Mostly because Dean is up at the little table with the broken leg, trying not to look worried for his baby brother.

Sam huddles under the covers, but decides to give it up when his mind just keeps wandering to darker places, much too dark for a ten-year-old. He slides down the side of the bed and stumbles over to the table. Dean smiles at him and tells him to go to bed, but Sam doesn’t listen. Just sits across from Dean and examines the objects on the table. Shotgun, flashlight, lighter, salt. The lighter catches his eye. Dad and Dean have always been careful with fire, Sam knows, because of his mom. But he’s always been kind of fascinated by it. 

Dean goes to check the window and Sam slides the lighter into his lap. He goes to the bathroom and locks the door, sits on the toilet seat and flicks the lighter.

A tiny flicker of flame gusts out, wavering indistinctly in the florescent lighting. It’s bright orange and yellow, not red at all, as Sam usually pictures fire. He can see a little strip of green at the very base.

And then a face.

Funny, Sam thinks, he’s never seen fire with features before. But this flame has little eyes of jade and it’s looking at him curiously.

It flashes through Sam’s mind to call his brother, have him hunt this creature like Dad hunts all the others. But how can you salt and burn fire?

And anyway this flame doesn’t seem malevolent. It’s just peering at him with those big eyes, and he lowers his head and peers back at them, careful not to jostle the flame.

"Hi," he says, voice only a breath. The flame doesn’t respond, but it flickers and he gets a sense of greeting from it, like a warm breath on the face.

"My dad’s late," he tells it, whispering the confession, the words unexpectedly terrified. The flame breathes over his face again, worried this time.

"I know," Sam says. He doesn’t ask how it knows to be worried. He’s ten. There’s a faith that comes with youth. He leans as close as he can without burning his lips, and whispers again in the quietest voice possible:

"I’m scared." He closes his eyes after. He’s never even told Dean that, before, because Dean has enough to make him get that wrinkle between his eyes that Sam always wants to press on with his fingers until it’s flattened out.

A brush of heat across his lips and chin, and it feels like reassurance. Sam smiles at the flame, and it gives off the feeling of a smile back.

"Sam!" Dean, pounding on the door. “You okay?"

"Yeah! Coming!" Sam waves to the flame and lets it go out, then pulls the door open. Dean’s got that line again, and Sam feels guilty despite his best efforts.

Sam slumps back in bed and tries to make Dean feel better through a game of twenty questions. He thinks it works, though he’s really tired so he can’t be sure.

John gets back forty minutes later, unharmed.

The lighter is nestled in Sam’s pocket.


End file.
